


Until the End

by WanderingAlice



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 02:32:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2530763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingAlice/pseuds/WanderingAlice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you only had a few days left to live, who would you spend it with? For Steve, it's a no brainer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until the End

**Author's Note:**

> I know I promised a new chapter of the Guardian, but I'm stuck at one scene and it's proving very hard to get through. I will try to get it up as soon as possible, though!  
> This one just sort of popped out. It was an alternate idea for the end of Anagnorisis/beginning of Comitatus before I settled on the anti-serum, and it decided to demand my attention when I was trying to finish other things in prep for NaNoWriMo. As always, thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Edited, with big thanks to Wolfiefics for the corrections!!

Tony was waiting for him when he left the doctor’s office. Of course he would be. The man had an almost supernatural sense for when his arrival would be most inconvenient. He stood when he saw Steve, and something in his face must have given it all away, because suddenly Tony didn’t look worried, he looked frightened. Just like Steve himself. Frightened, and trying badly to hide it.

“Steve?” Tony asked, “You ok, big guy?”

“I… yeah. Yeah. I’m fine.” Steve winced. The words sounded fake even before they came out of his mouth. Tony gave him that look- the one that just about dripped ‘bullshit’. Steve just shook his head. How was he supposed to tell Tony, to tell _anyone_ , what had happened. What was going to happen. How do you come out and say… _that_? Steve walked away, oblivious to Tony following him, asking more questions. He went straight to his room, and closed the door.

There he sat, and stared at the TV monitors that had been installed only a month before. On them, he could see every angle of Bucky’s cell. Currently, his friend was sitting on his bed, staring into space. He still wasn’t back to himself. The doctors said he might need _years_ of therapy, that only with patience and care and plenty of help would he ever return to even a semblance of the man he used to be. Who would help him now?

“Hey.”

Steve looked up, to see Natasha at his side. He hadn’t even heard her come in.

“So, bad news, huh?” She shoved him gently, and he made room for her to sit next to him on the bed.

“Yeah,” he huffed a laugh, a brief broken thing that sounded more like shattered glass. “You could say that.”

Natasha met his eyes. “So tell me.”

Steve almost refused. Almost. But this was Natasha. More than anyone else, she understood him. She knew what it was like to feel alone, even in a room full of people. She was often the only one that saw how hard he tried to appear normal, or understood how much he had lost. She was the one who helped him bring Bucky home. Well, she and Sam, but Sam had never understood just why it meant so much to him to bring Bucky back. Natasha did. She knew that Bucky was the only thing that had ever really mattered to him.

Instead of telling her, he showed her. He raised his shirt, and watched as she took in the damage. The place where Bucky had shot him was red and angry, black lines tracing his veins as the blood flowed away from the wound. Stitches held it closed still, though it had been months since that battle. It was a visible manifestation of changes that had been happening inside him. The doctors said it must have been happening slowly, ever since he woke up from the ice. So slowly, he hadn’t noticed it. The increased exhaustion, wounds taking longer to heal, the momentary weakness that came and went now with terrifying frequency. All of it led to one conclusion, one he had been trying so hard to ignore. His body was wearing out. He was dying.

Natasha didn’t need him to tell her. Like always, she knew without hearing the words. “How long?”

“They’re not sure. A week at most.”

“Why now? What happened?”

Steve sighed, covering his wound again. When he spoke, he watched his hands, afraid to see her face. “The serum… it pushed my body to limits it wasn’t designed to take. There was always a chance this could happen. My body… it could do more, but it burned up faster. And these past few months, I’ve been pushing it, looking for Bucky. I don’t regret it. It was worth it.” He met her eyes then, daring her to tell him different.

Natasha didn’t. She also didn’t ask if there was anything they could do, she knew there wasn’t. She just put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, silently offering the comfort he wouldn’t ask for. Steve turned his gaze back to the monitors. To Bucky.

“I’ll take care of him,” Natasha offered. “All of us will. It’s the least we can do.”

Steve’s nodded. “I know you will.”

As if he could hear them, Bucky looked up at the camera, meeting Steve’s eyes through the screen. He looked… tormented.

“What would you do?” Steve asked. “If it were you?”

Natasha laughed.

Steve frowned at her. “What?”

“It’s just… Stark asked me almost the same question one time. I’ll tell you the same thing I told him. I would do whatever I wanted to do, with whoever I wanted to do it with.”

“Alright,” Steve nodded, making a decision. “Then I’m gonna spend whatever time I have left with him.”

She didn’t protest, she understood. The Avengers, his friends from the modern world, she knew he cared about them, but Bucky was always first. Instead she asked, “You need anything?”

“Nah,” Steve shook his head. “Just… don’t tell the others, ok? I don’t want them to worry, and you know they will.”

Natasha nodded, then did something wildly unexpected. She hugged him tight. Steve leaned into her grip, and this time it was him giving her comfort. He pretended not to notice the tears that leaked from her eyes as she pulled away, letting her get her composure back. They sat together for a few moments more, making final plans, before Steve left to go talk Fury into letting him spend his last days in Bucky’s cell. He didn’t see Natasha go straight from his room to the living floor shared by all the Avengers.

 

Bucky looked at Steve as he entered, face blank. Undaunted, Steve set down his cot and bag, and smiled at his friend. “You’ve got company for a few days,” he said. “It wasn’t easy, but Fury finally agreed to let me stay with you. I’m on leave for a while, I figure we can hang out, maybe watch some tv or something.”

Bucky stared at him for a long while. Finally, he spoke. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, and turned his face to the wall.

“Well, I am,” Steve told him. “And I’m not leaving.” To emphasize his point he shut the door behind him. The lock clicked, sounding loud and final. Steve tried not to think that he would never walk through that door again. It was easy enough once he focused on Bucky, who was looking at him again.

Bucky noticed his scrutiny and growled. “Go away.”

“Nope,” Steve said, determinedly cheerful. He set up his cot against the wall, making the bed and smoothing the wrinkles out of the sheets. That done, he opened his bag and carefully put his clothes in the empty drawer of the room’s one dresser. His head spun a bit when he stood up, and he leaned hard against the furniture for the few seconds it took to regain his equilibrium. When he turned back around Bucky was watching him, eyes narrowed. Steve grinned at him and moved to the couch, grabbing the remote and turning on the tv. He was pretty sure the thing hadn’t been turned on since he and Tony convinced Coulson to put it in for Bucky, even though he himself had shown his friend how to use it. He covered another wave of exhaustion by leaning back and flipping channels.

It took an hour of Animal Planet for Bucky to make a move. Steve was used to this pattern, and wasn’t surprised when his friend joined him on the couch, the book Steve had been reading on his last visit clutched in his hands. He handed it back, with a scowl.

“The ending sucks,” he said. Steve laughed. It was a popular kid’s book that was being made into a movie. When he’d started it, he’d had the idea that maybe he and Bucky could go see it together when it came out. That wouldn’t happen now. Still, he could pretend it might, if only for a little while.

“Why? Because of what happened to the girl?”

“No,” Bucky shook his head. “The friend, the one named after a lizard. The girl was a bitch.”

“I think he was named after a scientist, actually,” Steve corrected. “They all were. And she wasn’t that bad, she really cared about the main guy.”

Bucky made a disgusted noise. “Sure, enough to lead him to his death, make him think she’d betrayed him.”

“She knew he wasn’t going to die,” Steve pointed out. “He was too important.”

“Even so, she played with him. Hurt him. And then expected him to still like her.”

“She saved his life,” Steve said. “She had to do it, or he would have really been killed.”

“That’s no excuse!” Bucky protested, angrily. “You don’t do that, especially to someone you love!”

“Maybe. But there wasn’t another option,” Steve told him. “There wasn’t any choice, for any of them.”

“Bullshit. There’s always a choice.”

“No,” Steve said, thinking of his current situation, and everything that had happened over the past seventy years. “Sometimes there isn’t.”

Something in his voice must have alerted Bucky to a problem, because suddenly he was staring hard at him. “Steve?” he asked, actual concern in his voice. “What’s wrong?”

Steve’s heart leaped- it was the first time Bucky had shown any emotion other than anger or self-hatred since Steve had brought him back. But at the same time, it hurt. He didn’t want to lie to Bucky, but there was no way he was going to tell him the truth.

“It’s nothing. Really,” he said, hoping Bucky would take the hint and leave it alone.

For one moment, Bucky looked like he was going to say something. Then the expression drained from his face, and silence took over again.

 

There were a few more moments like that one, as that day, and then the next, passed. Sometimes, Steve saw flashes of the old Bucky, more than there had been a month ago, or even a week ago. It made him happy and sad in turn. Happy that Bucky was regaining himself. Sad, because he knew he’d never be able to see him recovered. Meals were brought in to them, and Steve found that they were all his favorites. He suspected he had Natasha to thank for that, and made a note in the journal he kept in his pocket that she was to get first pick of his possessions after he died. He’d already made a will, but the only thing on it was that Bucky was to be taken care of out of his money, and given his shield.

The weakness that had brought him to the doctor in the first place came and went, and Steve did his best to hide it from Bucky. He thought he did a pretty good job of it too, despite the times he noticed his friend watching him with a speculative look on his face. The exhaustion was harder to play off, but if he didn’t exert himself too much he could pretend he wasn’t tired. The worst was the burning pain in his muscles, like a charlie-horse but all over. It, too, came and went, but that had been more frequent even than the weakness over the past few months, and so Steve had more practice at hiding it. So far as he knew, Bucky didn’t suspect a thing.

All that changed on the third day. Nothing had been going well that day- he’d woken up late, and found himself unable to even get out of bed for a few minutes, Bucky hadn’t had a flash of normalcy all day, and when their meals came, Steve didn’t even want to think about eating. He picked at his food all through dinner until Bucky was finished, and then stood, intending to take their dinner plates to the door. Then he felt all the blood in his body rush towards his feet. Everything went black, even before his head hit the floor.

Steve woke to Bucky’s panicked shouting. His friend was shaking him, holding on to his shoulders and calling for help. Steve groaned, the world swimming before his eyes. He felt like he’d been stepped on by an elephant, but that was nothing new. The door opened, and the blurry shape of his doctor entered at a run. Steve struggled to sit up.

“I don’t know. He just fell!” Bucky was saying. “He’s- Steve. Steve, stay down. Let the doctor look at you.” He pressed down on Steve’s shoulders, pushing him back down into his lap, where his head had somehow ended up.

“’M fine, Buck,” Steve told him, rubbing at his eyes. “Don’ worry.”

“Of course I’m gonna worry, you idiot,” Bucky said, Brooklyn accent coming in thicker than ever in his fear. “You’ve been acting funny for days, and now this. You gotta let the doc take a look.”

“Here,” the doctor was kneeling down beside them, holding a syringe. Steve made a face. He hated shots. “This should help. I take it you passed out?”

“Yeah,” Steve squeezed his eyes shut when the doctor gave him the shot, then opened them to look up into Bucky’s worried eyes. Funny, he’d almost forgotten how Bucky’s eyes went that shade of blue-green-grey while he was scared. “Guess I just need more rest, huh?” he said, hoping the doctor picked up on the hint and didn’t mention anything more about his condition in front of Bucky.

“Hmm,” the doctor hummed, frowning. “Let me see your wound.”

“Wound? What wound?” Bucky wanted to know. “Steve’s hurt?”

“Nothing to worry about,” Steve told him, though he knew Bucky would spot the lie. “I just got shot, is all.” He let the doctor lift his shirt, keeping his gaze on Bucky’s face, watching his eyes go from worried to shocked as he took in the damage.

“That-” he said, and stopped. He swallowed, and started again. “That’s not from my gun, is it?”

“Don’t be silly,” Steve lied. “That was months ago. Those injuries should all be healed by now.”

“Doc?” Bucky appealed to the doctor, eyes pleading. The doctor shrugged.

“I have no knowledge of how this particular wound came about. All I know is that I have been treating Captain Rogers for the past few weeks, and this wound is the worst I have ever seen.” The man looked at them both, and shook his head. “He would do well to remember what I told him before. Bed rest. No undue exertion. And I would be a lot happier if he would allow me to-”

“No,” Steve told him. “No hospitals. Out of the question.”

The doctor huffed. “That is your right. However, I will be talking to Director Fury about this.”

Steve wasn’t worried. Nick knew he needed to spend his last days with Bucky, not cooped up in some med ward being studied. They could do whatever they wanted to his body after he wasn’t using it anymore. Until then, he would do what he wanted with it.

The doctor stayed long enough to put some sort of smelly cream on the wound and get Steve seated comfortably on the couch. Bucky hovered, until the doctor asked for some time alone with his patient, and then he went to the corner of the room and watched, plainly mistrustful. Steve took advantage of the momentary semi-privacy to ask one question.

“How long, Doc?” he asked, dreading the answer.

“Two or three more days, give or take. You would have longer if you let me hospitalize you, of course.”

“No. Not an option.” Steve was adamant. He refused to spend his last however-long cooped up in a hospital bed, hooked up to all kinds of machines.

“You have said that already,” the doctor reminded him, clearly put out. “However, if you change your mind…”

“I won’t,” Steve assured him. “Just tell me, what’s gonna happen now.”

“You’ll get weaker,” the doctor said, shooting a glance at Bucky, who was pretending not to watch them. He kept his voice low, low enough that hopefully Bucky wouldn’t hear it. “You’ll need a lot of sleep, though I expect you have already noticed that.” Steve nodded, he had. “Tomorrow or the next day, your waking times will get briefer, the intervals between them longer. As your energy fails, your body will try to compensate with sleep. Eventually, you will pass out, and it will be impossible to wake you. After a day or so of that, your lungs and heart will cease to function, and your brain will follow soon after.”

“Thanks, Doc.” Steve said, attempting a smile. “I appreciate it. If I just stay here on the couch, I won’t have any more fainting spells, will I?”

“I can’t say, but perhaps not,” the doctor told him, and took his leave. There was nothing more he could do. Over the past two months they had tried everything, and nothing at all had worked.

“You’re dying, aren’t you?” Bucky asked, once the doctor was gone.

“What? No, who said anything about dying?” Steve denied, trying a laugh but managing only that shattered-glass sound that was almost the exact opposite.

Bucky glared at him, coming to sit on the couch next to him again. “My memory’s not all there, but I’m not stupid. You’re sick, and there’s nothing more they can do. That doc looked just about as defeated as any man I’ve ever seen, and the two of you were dancing around something neither of you wanted to say in front of me. Put that with the way you’ve been acting since you waltzed in here the other day, and it’s obvious.”

“Buck…” Steve didn’t know what to say to that.

“No, Steve,” Bucky said. “Don’t hide it, don’t try to protect me because you think I’m ‘fragile’ or something. Tell me what’s what.”

“Ok,” Steve said. “Ok. Yes. I’m dying. It’s the serum, it’s making my body burn out.”

“Fuck,” Bucky breathed, collapsing back against the cushions. “So what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be out, spending time with people?”

“That’s what I’m doing,” Steve told him. “Spending time with the most important person in my life.” He hadn’t meant it to come out the way it did, heavy with meaning, with all the things he’d always wanted to say but never could.

“Fuck,” Bucky said again. “You sure? I’m not exactly… the guy you remember anymore.”

Steve shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. You’re you. That’s all I care about.” He’d said something similar to him before, just after they’d brought Bucky back from the whole Winter Soldier mess. He’d meant it then, and he meant it now. He didn’t give two shits whether Bucky remembered him, he knew his friend was still in there, still the same man at the core that he always had been, and that was all he needed to know.

“How… how long have you got?” Bucky asked, sounding terrified. Steve closed his eyes, not wanting to see the pain on his friend’s face.

“Two or three days, the doctor said.”

“ _Fuck_!” Bucky yelled, followed by the sound of something breaking. Steve opened his eyes to see a fist-sized hole in the table, and wooden splinters caught in Bucky’s metal hand. “It’s not _fair_ ,” he continued. “I just remembered you. I’m finally remembering who I was. I thought… I thought maybe I’d be okay soon. And now this. How much more do we have to lose?” He got up, pacing, rage in every line of his body. Steve watched, too tired to do anything else. Privately, he agreed. Bucky had always been the one to express the temper Steve couldn’t, and now was no exception. The table, and the less-sturdy chairs in the room, did not survive the outburst. They ended up in a pile of broken wood in the corner, to be cleaned up and replaced by the automated drones that did all the housework in the detention cells. Steve spent the next hour helping Bucky pick splinters out of the metal hand, while his friend fumed. He didn’t try to calm him down. He agreed. It _wasn’t_ fair. But then, when had life ever been fair to Steve Rogers?

Things changed after that. Where Bucky had been careful to keep a fair distance between them before, now he sat as close to Steve as possible. He made a concentrated effort to not lapse back into the Winter Soldier mode, instead talking with Steve about the past he remembered, and the things he forgot. It was as if the knowledge of Steve’s death had forced a switch to click in his brain, memories poured in and he wanted to talk about them all. It was everything Steve had hoped for, but he had barely enough energy to enjoy it.

There were bad moments, times when Bucky disappeared behind the Winter Soldier, but as Steve got worse, those moments became fewer and farther between. Steve could tell he was trying harder than he ever had before, and it hurt because he knew it was for him. He wished… he wished he could tell Bucky just how much he meant to him. And he did, kind of. He just never talked about _love_. Before, he’d been too scared, and it was never the right time. Now, well, it was best there were some secrets he took with him to the grave.

To distract himself from that line of thought, Steve decided to try talking about something else. “Do you remember that time you got thrown in jail for brawling, and I had to come bail you out?” he asked.

Bucky shrugged. “Sure, but I’d done the same for you a couple times before, remember?”

“Uh-huh, though _I_ never got arrested for public nudity,” Steve pointed out, and watched Bucky’s face. It was almost as good as the morning after, when he’d woken up with a nasty hangover and remembered what he’d done.

“You’re kidding. I got arrested for public nudity?”

“Yep,” Steve said, enjoying the completely dumbstruck look on Bucky’s face. “Though, to be fair, I dared you.”

“Where?” Bucky asked, as though he were afraid to know the answer.

“Times Square. I dared you to take off your pants in the middle of winter, and you were so drunk you did it right then and there.” Steve remembered that night. They’d been 19, and it was the first time either of them had actually gotten drunk. It was also the first time he’d realized that he didn’t just love Bucky, he was _in love_ with him. Which, yeah, there he was going down that train of thought again. Fortunately, he had Bucky to distract him.

“No way. I don’t believe you.” Bucky was shaking his head, still looking shocked by the idea.

“It’s all true. If I’d had a camera, there would have been photographic proof, but I didn’t. I bet the Smithsonian has a copy of your arrest record though.” Steve had done a drawing of that evening, later, but Bucky had never found out about that one. It was in his ‘special’ sketchbook, the one he’d kept under the loose floorboard in their apartment, the one filled with nothing but drawings of Bucky.

“No way. You’re pullin’ my leg,” Bucky insisted.

“Would I lie to you?” Steve asked, giving him his best puppy-dog look. “I-” his next sentence was interrupted by a massive yawn. Suddenly he felt like a ton of bricks had been dropped on him. It was all he could do to keep his eyes open.

“Again, huh?” Bucky asked, and did something unexpected. He shifted until Steve was leaning against him, head pillowed on his shoulder. Until then, while he’d stayed close, he’d drawn the line at actual touching. Steve hummed in sleepy pleasure, and huddled closer to him. In moments, he was asleep.

Hours later, Steve woke, arms wrapped around Bucky, holding him much like a child holds their favorite stuffed toy or comfort blanket. Bucky hadn’t moved since Steve had fallen asleep, but was sitting quietly, watching the television, one hand gently running through Steve’s hair. Steve closed his eyes, more than happy to go back to sleep. Then, he noticed Bucky was talking to him, softly, unaware that he’d woken up.

“Don’t leave me, pal,” he said. “Don’t leave me alone. I don’t… what am I gonna do without you? What did you bring me back for, if you’re just gonna leave me again? I can’t do this on my own. And to tell the truth, I don’t wanna. I’d rather be wherever you are, you know that. The only time I ever left willingly was when I went to war, and that was to protect you. Then I got captured, and suddenly you’re protecting _me_. Who’ll I look after now, huh?” He sighed, and the arm that had wrapped around Steve’s shoulders tightened. “That Stark kid had better have some way of saving you. I can’t believe they’d just let you go like this, not if they know you even half as well as me. And what about you, huh? How come you give up so easy? You never gave up before. Is it ‘cause you think you’ve done your part? You wanna leave me? You think, you saved me, so your job is done? Well, I got news for you. It ain’t. You got responsibilities now, you brought me back, now you gotta make sure I stay. I’ll only stay ‘cause of you. Only ‘cause I love you, you big lug.”

Steve’s heart leaped, and for the first time in weeks he felt fully awake. Had he started hallucinating, or had Bucky actually said what he’d thought he said?

“I ain’t told you before,” Bucky continued, “on account of I was scared. I didn’t wanna lose you. And now it looks like I’m gonna lose you anyway. I thought, after the whole serum thing, I’d never have to sit by, helpless, again. I thought, you getting sick was a thing of the past. But it’s not. I remember bein’ scared you were gonna die about a million times when we were kids, and I’m sure there’s enough holes in my memory that I don’t remember them all. I always wanted to tell you I loved you, so you’d know, no matter what, you’re not alone. But it wasn’t safe, then, and now, when it is, mostly, it won’t make any difference.”

Fuck. It wasn’t fair. So much lost time. He’d loved Bucky for most of his life, and only found out now, when he had hours left. Sometimes, the tragedy that was his life was just unbelievable.

“You mean it, Buck?” Steve asked. “You really mean it?”

Bucky jumped, and Steve could hear his heart speed up where he’d pressed his ear to Bucky’s chest.“Steve! You’re awake!”

“For now,” Steve said. “But… you mean it? Really?”

“I… yeah. Yeah I do.” Bucky tensed under Steve, readying himself for Steve’s rejection.

“Good,” Steve told him. “’Cause I thought I was gonna die without ever telling you how I felt.”

“No way. No way, really?” Bucky leaned back, lifting Steve’s shoulders enough so they could look each other in the eyes.”

“Yeah,” Steve told him. “I just thought you weren’t interested. So I never said.”

“Aw hell,” Bucky laughed. “This sucks. I finally find out you love me, and we haven’t got time to do anything about it.”

“Not ‘anything’,” Steve said, with a tired smile. “But something, at least.” Then he used most of his remaining energy to lean forward and press his lips to Bucky’s. What followed was a blissful few minutes where nothing happened but kissing. When Steve’s energy gave out, Bucky flipped them over so Steve was lying on the couch beneath him, doing all the work himself so they could keep kissing.

The rest of the day, Steve alternated between sleeping and kissing. He _wanted_ to stay awake, to keep going, making up for all that lost time. Unfortunately, his body had other ideas. As the day turned to night, the periods of wakefulness decreased, the intervals between them increased. Finally, he realized it was probably very near the end. He could barely raise his head under his own power, but he managed to wrap his fingers tightly around Bucky’s hand.

“Love you,” he said, urgently. It was the most important thing he’d ever said. “I love you so much.”

Tears fell from Bucky’s eyes onto his face. “I love you,” he said. “Always have, always will.”

Steve smiled. “Be happy, Buck. For me.”

“I’ll try. No promises, but I’ll try.” He leaned in and kissed Steve one last time. Before he pulled away, Steve had fallen into his final sleep.

Distantly, as if heard through a rain barrel, Steve heard Bucky calling his name. He knew he was shaking him, but was unable to respond. He knew, though he couldn’t say how, that Bucky was sobbing. He listened as Bucky calmed, and knew when he stopped trying to wake him and simply carried him over to the bed and curled up beside him. He ached to comfort him, but his body was now beyond his control. It was torment, but Steve felt it as if through a layer of glass, somehow removed from his own emotions. He could only observe as his body began to run down.

He didn’t know how much later it was when the door opened and a small group stepped through. He did hear Bucky growl, demanding to know who they were, and identified Tony’s voice when he said “Steve’s friends. Or life-savers. Heroes.” Something stung his chest, like a massive needle injecting something into his heart. No, not like. It _was_ a massive needle injecting something into his heart. It hurt, but still in that removed way.

“What’s that?” Bucky demanded. “What did you just do?”

“Relax, James,” Natasha said. “Bruce and Tony worked it out, something that was missing from the original serum. This, -and don’t ask me what it is, because I really don’t know- is supposed to fix it.”

“You mean… he’ll live?” The hope in Bucky’s voice was painful in a more immediate way, stabbing into Steve’s heart like that needle.

“Maybe,” Bruce said. “If we’re not too late.” Something pinched Steve’s arm, and he twitched away from the pain. Everyone in the room held their breath. Something else pinched the wound in his stomach, and he flinched again. That pain wasn’t removed at all, he felt it- all of it.

“Look,” Pepper whispered. “He’s healing.”

“Thank god,” Tony said, sounding more relieved than Steve had imagined he could sound. Steve flinched again and moaned as the wound closed, a fire flaring in the veins around it and then going out, leaving him feeling more energetic than he had in months.

“When will he wake up?” Bucky asked, but he hadn’t needed to. Steve’s eyes snapped open, and focused on Bucky’s tear-stained face right in front of him.

“Hey,” he said, smiling.

“Hey yourself, punk,” Bucky told him, then kissed him. Unnoticed, the Avengers filed out of the room. Tony, being Tony, left a note saying he expected thanks once the post-near-death-experience sex was over with. Steve didn’t disappoint. He sent Tony and Pepper tickets for a month-long romantic cruise, and while nothing was said of the near-death thing to the public, Steve did issue an official statement that he and Bucky were dating, and it was all thanks to Tony Stark.

Bucky thanked him in a slightly more practical way, once he was finally allowed out of the detention cell. He allowed Tony unrestricted access to the arm, which gave him ideas enough for three more Iron Man suits and a new, even better, arm for the assassin. He also gave unsolicited relationship advice, which was less appreciated, but sometimes he provided Tony with good ideas- ideas that Pepper loved.

Both of them got Bruce a big box of Asian teas as a thank you, and Steve flew Betty in from her current job as a surprise. Bucky set up a date night for them on the roof, and they both did their level best to keep snooping Avengers from watching. (That was how Bucky found the air ducts, which was totally Clint’s fault. But that’s another story.)

Natasha they gave a spa weekend with Jane and Darcy, since trying to set up anything romantic for her was likely to get them both punched in the face. She refused any other reward, though she did mention that they both owed her a favor now, and one day she would collect.

And as for Steve and Bucky? Well, the Avengers and partners all got used to finding them kissing in odd places (Clint holds the record for oddest- he found them making out in the air ducts above Fury’s office,) and missions now ended with mind-blowing sex. They still had more than their fair share of near misses and dances with death, but somehow they always pulled through. And, for once in their very long lives, they found that sometimes, people do get the happiness they deserve, even if it does take ninety years to happen.


End file.
